


From Hero to Champion

by inuyori595



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/M, Some Fluff, Some Humor, Some angst, a bit of everthing, i can't tag, like omg, like theres a bit of everything, past trama, please help, running from uncomfortable situations, so many characters - Freeform, the works
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-03 23:11:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15828849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inuyori595/pseuds/inuyori595
Summary: To escape the past the Warden runs away. To Kirkwall. Of all places. And the past is not far behind.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Holy crap. I've been working on this since sixth grade. That's like 9 years. So like bear with the changes in writing style.

I looked at my surroundings; the dimly lit tavern cast shadows on the faces of the few men that sat in its damp halls. The patrons sat either alone, drinking away their problems, or in small groups, laughing in a drunken haze. As I surveyed the small, dismal tavern, I saw a man sitting alone at one of the dark, wooden tables. His muscular form and short, choppy, blonde hair reminded me of one of my former companions, Alistair.   
Alistair. My heart croaked at the thought of my old friend. Regret washed over me in a wave. Even after all he had done to help me; I had let Anora keep the throne. He had gotten so furious that he’d stormed away. I hadn’t seen Alistair since just after the battle with the Arch Demon.  
I sat down at a table not far from the lonely man, letting my mind dwell on the past as I drank the tart mead I had ordered. My thoughts were interrupted as the tavern door swung open. A red haired dwarf stumbled in, looking as though he were beyond drunk. I giggled at the sight of the well-known dwarf.  
“Oghren.” I waved to the dwarf, the lonely man mumbling the dwarf’s name in surprise as I said it.  
The dwarf turned toward me, swaying slightly as he moved. “By the tits of my sauding ancestors!” I smiled as the dwarf recognized me. “Luna! Alistair!” My heart skipped a beat at the mention of the name. “What are you doing here?” Oghren seemed bewildered.  
Trembling, I turned to find myself standing face to face with the friend I had lost; the man I had loved for so long. “Alistair.” My voice was hardly a whisper, my throat tight with sorrow.  
“Luna.” His eyes were sad and tearing up. It had always been easy to read the man’s emotions; it still was, even through his drunken gaze.  
My chest ached. It’d been so long since I had heard his voice, or even seen him. I felt tears welling up in my eyes. “Alistair.” I spoke, trying to keep my voice even. Though, from the look on his face, I knew it wasn’t working. “Thank the Maker you’re alive.” I smiled even though I wanted to simply cry. I lifted my hand, as if to reach out to him. “I missed you so much. I…” I dropped my hand back down to my side without touching the rightful king. “I’m sorry.” I looked down at my feet, shame and embarrassment heating my face. After a moment, I looked back at Alistair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to loose a friend. I’m sorry. Please… please forgive me.”  
Alistair looked at me shocked, his face twisting with rage and pain. He stayed silent for a long moment before his features hardened. “I cannot forgive you.” He looked away from me then, clenching his fist tightly. “Not after you let that conniving whore keep the throne – my birthright.”   
My eyes stung as tears began to blur my vision, my heart aching. It hurt to speak, “But… but I loved… I love you, Alistair.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, my hands clamped over my lips. Alistair stared at me, pain and surprise shone in his eyes, his mouth hung open slightly.  
Oghren chuckled. “Looks like little Pike Twirler’s got a girl. Ooooh.” The dwarf laughed, his long beard swaying slightly.  
I stared at Alistair for a moment longer before turning, my face burning with embarrassment. I ran out of the tavern, tears streaking from my eyes. Denerim’s streets were dark and empty. Heart pounding I ran to the gates of the great city. With one last look at Deriniam, I wiped my eyes, and left with no intentions of ever returning to the town I had known as my home for so long.


	2. Chapter 1: A Deadly Reunion

“There, that’ll do.” I said to the darkness as a campfire came to life. I sighed, the emptiness of the night making me feel the loneliness that closed in around me. The flickering flame lit my surroundings, showing a place that had once been so familiar to me. The spot was well worn. I could still picture how it had been before the battle. We had all taken up our own areas in the large clearing. Alistair, the bastard prince and Grey Warden, had set up his tent next to mine, in the middle of the clearing by the fire. Bohdan and Sandel, the merchants, had set up shop near the middle of the clearing. Oghren, the mighty dwarf, had taken up an area not far from the middle, but close enough that everyone could smell the thick sent of ale that had always waft out of his tent. Lelliana, the assassin and bard, had set her tent next to mine, across from the fire and in the middle of the clearing. Morrigan, our witch of the Wilds, had set herself apart from the rest of us, keeping watch near the edge of the forest, with her own small fire that lit the night. Wynne, the old circle mage, had set up her tent between Lelliana and Oghren’s. Shale, the golem, and Sten, the qunari, had stood watch between the three main areas of the camp. I was sure that neither actually slept. Zeveran, the Antivan Crow, had set his tent next to Alistair’s. Anon, my mabari hound, had always seemed to sleep between my tent and Alistair’s. I had set my tent in the middle of the clearing, next to where we built a fire nightly. Back then, we had all been so close. We had been friends, comrades. And together, we had fought the Blight and survived.  
“Treading old paths can lead to death, my friend.” A familiar, heavily accented voice cooed from the darkness of the trees. “Trust me, I would know. Though, death cannot get a grip on you. That, I also know; unfortunately, better than most.”  
“Death doesn’t seem to catch you either.” I replied as a blonde haired elf stepped into the firelight. The light exaggerated his slim features and cast strange shadows on his leather armor. “Zeveran.”  
“Ah. You do not forget your companions easily I see.” He replied, taking a few steps closer and squatting in front of the fire.  
“Yeah. I find it best not to forget the people who try to kill me.” I responded sarcastically, recalling the ambush we had quite literally walked into.   
“Oh come now. That is behind us, yes.” Zeveran seemed cool and collected, though I assumed it was just the effect of his Antivan accent. He seemed unbothered by my presence, unlike most people in Fereldan. Once again, I found myself thinking of the long days and nights traveling with old friends. Even with the countless battles and injuries, it had been fun, and I sorely missed it.  
Something inside me began to stir, kindling a fire that had been so close to going out. “Companions?” I offered my hand as though to close a deal. I couldn’t help myself from wanting to recreate what had once been so precious to me.  
“As in travel together? Yes.” He replied, shaking my hand; closing the deal for a second time. “What exactly are you doing out of Denerim? City life not good enough for the Hero of Fereldan?”  
“I was planning on going to the Free Marches. See if I can’t get myself into some kind of trouble.” I smiled at the thought of a battle. “But I figured I’d visit some old friends first.” I finished after a moment.  
“Old friends?” A look of amusement shone on the elf’s face, making me wonder exactly what he thought I meant.  
“I was thinking I’d stop by the Circle and harass some of the Templars before running off to Kirkwall.” I smiled mischievously, again amused, this time at the thought of bothering the Templar Knights that had once been all too willing to attempt to kill all the mages, even those who hadn’t used blood magic, during the Blight. Silence fell over the clearing, as Zeveran and I both sat, absorbed in our own thoughts.  
The silence was broken only by an earsplitting shriek that range through the air. A strange creature appeared before us from the shadows. It was hunched over, long claws taking place of fingers. It seemed to be hooded, though had it been cloth, it would have been twisted into the thing’s corrupted flesh. Without warning, the creature hissed and attacked us. I took a few steps back and reached for my connection with the Fade. As I concentrated on my task, a bolt of ice flew from my outstretched hand and froze the creature solid just before it could strike Zeveran. I stared at the creature, astonished.  
“A Shriek?” I asked, breaking the silence.  
“This means darkspawn, yes? I never did like those beasts.” Zeveran said, pushing over the frozen Shriek, causing it to shatter into a million small fragments.  
“Must have gotten trapped on the surface when we sealed off the hoard.” I commented, trying to make since of it being here.  
“That may be so. But enough let us move on before more show up.” Zeveran kicked dirt into the fire, smothering the flame.  
“What a waste.” I sighed. “Let’s go.” I gestured for the elf to fallow. We quickly left the old campsite behind.


	3. Chapter 2: A Home of Tyranny

The sun was high in the sky when we stopped to rest. There had yet to be any travelers pass us on the usually busy road, causing a since of unease and dread to spread through me.  
We sat in silence. I thought about what had transpired just over a year ago. I had been recruited to the Grey Wardens after helping a friend escape the circle. I would have never thought him to be a blood mage, had I not witnessed him use the dark magic with my own eyes. I had had another encounter with Jawen, a raven-haired mage, at Redcliff Castle. He had been hired to poison the Arl by Loghain, and by the Arl’s wife to train her son in the art of magic. However, being young and inexperienced, the Arl’s son accidently let a demon into the castle. The demon had terrorized the village of Redcliff and killed many of the castle guard.  
As we sat, catching our breath from our haste, I heard someone yell in horror, “Andraste’s grace! Someone! Help!”  
Zeveran and I exchanged a glance. Out of habit, we took off towards the source of the cry for help. We rounded a cliff to find a black haired man on the ground, arms up in defense, as a grotesque, twisted creature towered above him; an abomination.  
“What’s going on?” I demanded, as I froze the abomination in place.  
The man, dressed in mages’ robes, stood and pushed over the creature, it shattering into pieces. He dusted himself off, “Take that, vile creature. Thank you. If you hadn’t come along, I would be…” The mage stopped speaking when he saw me, surprised. “Luna?”  
“Jawen? This is the second time I’ve saved your nug-humping ass.” I replied coldly, fond of being able to use the dwarven insult. I remembered briefly how I had freed Jawen at Redcliff castle on a promise that he’d return to the Circle. Only to have him show up just in time for the Arl’s wife to throw her life away to save her son and the Arl.  
“I’m glad to see you remember me.” He replied cautiously. “So, what is it like being the Hero of Fereldan, and the Commander of the Grey?”  
Once again I felt a twinge of regret as Alistair crossed my mind. He was supposed to be the Commander of the Grey, not me. “It’s not as exciting as it sounds; as with most things.” I spoke in a kinder tone. The memory of the apparitions at the Urn of Sacred Ashes danced in my mind. “It’s kind of a bore in all honesty. Everyone has something they can’t fix on their own. Who better to go to than the Hero of Fereldan?”  
“That’s odd.” Jawen looked at me thoughtfully. “I always took you for the kind to help people.”  
“Yeah. I am. I guess that’s why I never see any of my friends.” I admitted, feeling guilt ravage my mind.

 

“You there. Mage.” A rough voice called from behind. I turned around, crossing my arms. The man before me wore a heavy breastplate over Templar robes. His arms and face were covered, giving no way of identifying the man. “Knight-Captain Cullen wishes to speak with you.” I looked at the Templar amused, fondly recalling the obsession Cullen had had for me when I was just a simple Circle mage.  
“So, he sends a Templar to do a messenger’s work of fetching Fereldan’s Hero, who just so happens to be a mage.” Zeveran bemused. “And, he does not even have respect enough to call you the correct title.”  
“Alright.” I said, a challenging tone in my voice. “Lead the way, Templar.” I spat back at the Templar with the same tone he had used to address me. Zeveran and I fallowed the Templar closely, watching for any other oddities on the way.

 

As the Templar led us to the Circle of Magi, I couldn’t help but recall the condition it had been in the last time I was there. Abominations and demons had roamed the halls, easily overpowering weak-willed mages and Templar knights. A corruption had spread on the floors and walls of the tower’s many rooms, having come through the Fade with the demons. Blood mages had taken the tower. Many uncorrupt mages and Templar lost their lives in an attempt to protect their home. It was by luck that my companions and I had reached the Tower in time to save Cullen and the First Enchanter. Back then, Cullen had been a simple Templar knight and Greagoir was the Knight-Commander. Shortly after we had ended the Blight, Greagoir retired, leaving the tower under watch of the only Templar he trusted, Cullen.  
“I see the Hero of Fereldan is still on her feet.” An old, weary voice spoke as we entered the Circle Tower.  
I turned to see an old woman with white hair pinned in a bun. She had a longing, friendly look on her face. “Hello, Wynne.” I smiled.  
“That’s First Enchanter Wynne to you, young lady.” She corrected. “Erving sends his regards.”  
“First Enchanter?” I questioned, a nod confirming it. “Congratulations.”  
“So, the old lady is now a powerful old lady.” Zeveran marveled. “How interesting. I’m sure it was your charm, yes.”  
“If only. And, I’m not that old.” Wynne defended. “I was told there would be a respectful guest. I had no idea it would be you, odd how the Maker works. And to think, I had just been thinking about you.” Wynne smiled. “I’ll take you to Cullen.”  
“Thank you.” I replied. I let Wynne lead Zeveran and I through the tower to the living courters of the Templars. The Templar living courters had always been right above the mages. I assumed it was part of their power trip; but after seeing the upper floors, I wondered if it was to keep the mages from the large supply of lyrium that was kept in the upper levels of the tower. 

 

Wynne closed the heavy wooden door behind us as we entered the Knight-Captain’s office. Cullen was pacing his office. He stopped, turning to face me, relief shone in his eyes.  
“I see my knight did not fail me.” Cullen looked pleased at the fact.  
“Well, you know Templars, they’re great at hunting mages. I mean, that is their job after all.” I smiled coyly at Cullen, glad to see an irritated look on his face.  
“I called you here for reasons other than jokes.” He huffed, tensing his jaw in irritation. “I will be leaving for Kirkwall in the Free Marches. Knight-Commander Meredith has need for me there. It seems they’ve been having issues with blood mages.” His features softened then, hope glinting in his eyes. “I was hoping that you would accompany me. Perhaps make a name for yourself there as well. I’m sure you are getting tired and bored with not much to do in Fereldan.”  
I smiled, surprised that the Templar would be so kind. “That actually sounds really nice. I was planning on leaving Fereldan anyways.” As I spoke, excitement peaked up inside me. I had a free pass out of Fereldan, and I wouldn’t be counted as an apostate. Not only that, but I would have free protection since I was traveling with Templars.  
“Leaving so soon?” Zeveran seemed a bit surprised. “What of your friends?”  
I sighed, avoiding Zeveran’s eyes. “I’ve already seen you, Oghren and Wynne. Morrigan and Shale both disappeared, and I don’t think it’d be an easy task to find them. Lelliana went back to Orlais, or re-joined the Chantry, or something like that. Sten went back to the Qun. As for my mabari, he’s been dead since the end of the Blight.” I looked at Zeveran and then at the ground, not wanting him to see my sorrow as I spoke my next words. “And Alistair, I could… I could care less what happened to him.” From the look Zeveran gave me, I could tell he knew it was a lie.  
“Well, I for one, know better than to try to stop you. I tried it once and almost died, after all.” Zeveran gave me a sad smile and a nod before turning and leaving. I let out a heavy sigh as he departed.   
“All is set then. We leave for Kirkwall at dawn. Rest for now, Hero.” Cullen suggested after a pause. I left his office, excited to be getting away from the past.


	4. Chapter 3: The City of Chains

As we sailed into the Gallows of Kirkwall, I was appalled by its beauty and pain. On either side of the cliff faces that rose high above the city, were two golden statues of what I could only assume were slaves. Similar statues decorated many of the towering buildings and walls of the city. It was a sad yet beautiful reminder that Kirkwall had once been both a slave town and a prison.  
“Odd, isn’t it?” Cullen said, coming to stand next to me on the deck of the ship. “A thing of such beauty has been responsible for so much pain and death.” He looked at me with longing, almost as if speaking of me. I quickly shrugged the thought away. As the ship docked, Cullen averted his gaze, snapping back into reality. “Fallow me.”  
I fallowed the Knight-Captain through the crowded streets of Kirkwall. People moved out of the way, somehow already aware of the authority that Cullen held.  
After leaving the docks, Cullen stopped abruptly, turning towards me. His voice was firm yet held a note of re-assurance. “You should find work. I hear there is to be an expedition to the Deep Roads. You’re familiar with the underground network of tunnels. You should see if you could join. Just, don’t do anything to make Meredith try to send a bunch of Templars after you.” Cullen smiled before walking away, leaving me standing alone in the middle of Lowtown.

 

As I wondered the streets of Kirkwall, I became aware of just how many Fereldans lived there. Several times I had stopped to give coin to dirty children. It seemed that most people ignored the plight of the Fereldans who had fled to Kirkwall to escape the Blight. It was sad to see how few were actually able to make something out of a life in Kirkwall. As far as I could see, few actually had descent jobs. Many seemed to end up working in mines or doing jobs no Free Marcher would willingly do himself.   
I stopped in front of a shop, Fereldan Imports. I smiled. I pushed the door open and walked in. The building was dimly lit, a few children sat in the corner sharing a loaf of stale bread. A woman stood behind a counter, her grey hair pulled into a tight bun. The woman behind the counter spoke without looking up from the papers in front of her.  
“Welcome to Fereldan Imports. Yes, all of our goods do come from Fereldan. If you’re feeling generous, feel free to leave money in our donation bin. It goes to the Fereldans who live in the streets of Kirkwall.”  
“Ma’am.” I spoke, clearing my throat as one of the children shot me a curious glance. “Is life really this horrible for the people of Fereldan who fled the Blight?”  
She looked up then, taking me in. I could only imagine what she thought. I wore the heavy golden armor that had belonged to King Cailan, a heavy great sword slung on my back. “Not all Fereldans can get into the guard.” She spat at the ground in front of me. “Or loot our dead king’s corpse.” Her eyes stared daggers into me. Her comment caused other people in the shop to take notice of me; they murmured to each other.  
“I apologize for the misunderstanding, ma’am.” I cleared my throat again, feeling unease. “I did not loot Cailan’s corpse, as you so strongly suggest. Queen Anora gifted me his armor after I killed the Arch Demon.” I stared back at her hard, and straightened up. This caused another wave of murmurs from the people in the shop. “And, I was going to donate this.” I tossed a large sack of gold coins on the counter, the woman’s eyes growing wide.  
“How… how much?” The woman looked up at me, a new respect in her eyes.

“Over a hundred gold pieces.” I smiled then, letting my features soften. “I hope it feeds a few families.”  
“Thank you.” The woman called after me as I turned away from her. “You can have discounts on anything in the store thanks to this large donation.” With that, I walked out of the store and back into the streets of Kirkwall.


	5. Chapter 4: Bait and Switch

“You there. You look able.” A dark-haired dwarf called from the darkness of the Lowtown market. “Want to make a bit of coin?”  
I approached him, curiosity peaking my interest. “Sure, what’s the job?”   
“I have a product that I need you to fetch. It’s in a warehouse in the alienage. My client is very persistent about getting it, and doesn’t like to wait.”  
“So, you want me to fetch lyrium, right?” I asked, unsurprised by the request.   
“Well…” the dwarf looked around nervously. “Yes.”  
“Alright. One order of lyrium coming right up.” I smiled at the dwarf before heading off toward the alienage.

 

As I approached the warehouse, I began to get suspicious. The streets were empty and the moon shone bright. “Probably an ambush.” I sighed aloud. “That’d explain why he hired me to fetch his lyrium. Oh well.” I shrugged, excited at the idea of a fight. “I should be able to handle it. After all, I took the final blow on the Arch Demon, killed the Mother, and fought my way through a hoard of darkspawn, twice.”  
I opened the door carefully and walked in. I stood in front of three heavily armed men. “Great.” I said aloud. “At least this will be fun.”  
“She’s not the elf.” One of them pointed out as I drew the great sword that Sten had given me as a sign of thanks.  
“Kill her anyways.” Another retorted, brandishing his twin daggers. “The boss said not to leave any survivors.”  
“No survivors?” I mocked. “Okay, I can do that.” I smiled devilishly as the other two drew their swords. The one with twin daggers rushed me. I sidestepped, just in time to dodge both of his blades. I swung my heavy sword behind him, cutting his head clean off. The other two looked at me, almost scared. I used their amazement as an opening to summon a cone of fire that fried them both to a crisp.   
There was a small chest in the back of the room. “Lyrium. It must be in there.” I thought aloud. I walked over to the chest and examined it. “Damn. It’s locked.” I looked around to see if I could spot a key; I did. I walked over to the headless body of one of the thugs and ripped the key from a chain that hung at his hip. I inserted the key into the lock that held the chest close and turned it until I heard the clank of metal.   
“Alright.” I whispered to myself. I lifted the lid of the chest only to be disappointed. “Empty? This really was an ambush.” I thought back to what one of the men had said. “And it wasn’t for me either.” I looked closely at the men I had killed. “Why didn’t I notice?” I asked myself as I saw a marking on their armor. “Slavers.” I was suddenly glad I had run into the ambush instead of the poor elf it had been set up for.  
I walked outside to find myself looking at yet another surprise and groaned. While I had been inside, a large group of heavily armed slavers had assembled. Their leader looked upset when she saw me.  
“Damn human! You’re not the elf! Where is he?” Her voice was laced with anger, hate and disgust. “You ruined our trap. We gotta kill ya’ now.” As she spoke those works, all twenty-five of the men that accompanied her unsheathed their weapons. “Attack!” She yelled.  
I quickly moved into the open where it would be far easier to fight. Five men ran at me from across the alienage. Acting quickly, I reached the Fade, summoning up a large ball of fire. I sent it hurtling towards the men, leaving five fine piles of ash. The others were relentless. As fire, ice and electricity flew through the air, I could feel my connection with the Fade weaken and I felt myself begin to grow tired. Realizing how low on magical energy I was, I drew my great sword. With each swing I hit one of the slavers; some blows were enough to instantly kill the scum. Blood flew through the air as I cut down my enemies. Even after seeing what had happened to her men, the leading slaver attacked in a flurry of anger. With one quick, precise blow, her body fell in a pool of blood as her head landed not far away.  
As I slung my sword onto my back, an arrow flew past my head, just barely missing me. I spun around to see a slaver fall to his knees, dead. A man stood behind him. The elf had snow-white hair and icy blue eyes. Markings ran across his body making it seem as though lyrium pulsed through his veins. He wore a dark chest plate over a black tunic with dark, clawed gauntlets and dark leggings. He seemed strong yet agile, much like a cat. He held himself in a manner that made him seem on edge. He walked towards me, cautiously.  
His voice was rough yet somehow sweet. “You should watch your back Fereldan.” He stopped in front of me. I could feel the power of lyrium pulsing off of him, taking my breath away. “Thank you for helping me get rid of them.” He gestured towards the dead slavers.  
“You could have asked me directly.” I replied. “I’m known as one who helps those in need, especially if they can hold their own.”  
“A direct assault would have been too risky.” He responded. His voice was sandpaper on wood, yet the words flowed from his mouth like a bard’s tale. “Tell me, what was in the chest?”  
“Sadly, it was empty.” I admitted.  
“Just as I thought.” He sighed, “But still…” he stopped talking then and looked me over as though assessing my skill. “There is a magister, Denarius; he has a mansion here in Kirkwall’s Hightown. I will need someone of your skill to help me kill him.”  
“I assume he was your master then.” I spoke, assessing the situation I was about it get myself into. The elf looked at me in surprise. “I know a slave when I see one, no matter how proud he looks.”  
“You are correct.” He responded, unsure. “My name is Fenris. If you wish to help me, meet me in Hightown tomorrow night.” He turned then and stalked away, leaving me in the middle of a bloodied mess.

 

Hightown was dark and quiet as I sat by an old building, waiting. When I had returned to the Gallows, a letter had been waiting for me. It had listed a specific time and place, if I was still up for killing Denarius. I had also received a lecture about not cleaning up after myself, since I had left the slavers’ bodies for the city guard to take care of.  
“You’re early.” A voice called. I looked up to see Fenris approaching me. “I’m surprised you showed up at all.”  
“Everyone disserves a chance to change their past.” I smiled sadly, once again thinking of the adventures I had once had. “How did you know I was staying in the Gallows?”  
“I saw you arrive with that Templar, the Knight-Captain I believe. Interestingly, you weren’t being herded like cattle, as the mages are. I figured you must be someone of great skill and importance.” Fenris answered confidently.  
“So, we go in and kill Denarius?” I asked, desperate to change the subject off of mages. I began to get unease and regret choosing to help the elf. Perhaps he would turn on me if I showed that I was in fact a mage after all.  
“Yes. But, knowing Denarius,” as he spoke the magester’s name, I could sense a never-ending hatred towards mages, causing me to shift uncomfortably. “There will be traps. Most likely magic infused.”  
“This Denarius. He is a magester, a mage. Aside from him having been your master, why do you hate him so much?” I asked, letting my curiosity get the best of me.  
“He gave me these markings. I was a slave, a toy to him. In Tiventer, the mages hold all the power. They use that power to get and do what they want. Mages should be held on a leash; the Circle certainly has the right idea.” He hissed. “Shall we get on with this?”  
“Of course.” I replied. Fenris opened the door to the old mansion and walked in; I fallowed. The old house was dark and dusty. I could feel how weak the Veil was. A powerful demon could easily slip out of the Fade and into reality.   
I opened a door into a large room. As Fenris and I stepped into the room, the door slammed shut and locked behind us. A light mist covered the ground, a maniacal laughter ringing through the dank air.   
“Denarius! I know you’re here!” Fenris hollered. Several creatures lurching out of the mist answered him. They were black, hunched figures, deep purple eyes glowed from beneath a dark cowl.   
“Shades?” I asked, surprised. Without thinking, I sent a ball of fire hurtling towards two of the demons. As it hit them and combusted, the demons hissed and melted into the mist they had come from. I felt the Veil strengthen slightly. I turned to see Fenris cut down a demon that looked as though it were made of flame and flowing magma. As the rage demon melted away, and the Veil strengthened once more, a powerful demon appeared. The arcane horror wore long, tattered robes, its skeletal hands moved strangely as it began to conjure a spell. Fenris leaped into the air and slashed his blade down on the arcane horror, just as I froze the creature. As the demon shattered into small fragments, the mist vanished.  
“He’s not here.” Fenris sounded upset. He turned to leave. “I’m sure he left something of value. Feel free to help yourself.” He walked out of the mansion then, leaving me to decide what I would do.

 

The streets were still dark; a cool wind blew into the city from the sea. Fenris stood, leaning against the side of the mansion. As I approached, he turned towards me.  
“I thought I had gotten away from the past. But magic plagues me even now. I saw what you did back there. You’re a mage.” He growled. “It seems as though no matter how far I run, I’m plagued by magic.”  
“However, I have no intent to harm or control you.” I responded softly.  
“That may be true… for now.” The hate in his eyes burned into me, almost unbearable. “What has magic touched that it has not spoiled?”  
As he said that I thought of how the Circle had almost fallen. I thought of the witch, Flemith; that I had had to kill. I thought of how Redcliff had been terrorized every night for days. I thought of Jarwen. “You have a point there.” I admitted, “I’ve seen firsthand the corruption that magic can cause. I’ve seen friends attack one another, people go insane, mothers turning on their children, suffering, and whole villages destroyed all because of magic.”  
Fenris looked at me, surprise evident on his face. “You’ve seen what it does, yet you use it.”  
“What choice do I have?” I sighed sadly. “If I could get rid of it, I would. But, some things you just don’t have control of. You of all people should know that. Mages, no matter their intentions, should be watched’ even myself.” I laughed then, a cold laugh. “In fact, I’m probably one of the most dangerous mages there is. I killed the Arch Demon and the Mother, after all.”  
“I see.” Fenris looked at me, bemused, “You are unlike any mage I have ever met. You actually see what should be done. I commend you on that.” Fenris fell silent and looked me over once again, as if seeing me for the first time. “I wish to join you. We shall work and, if necessary, travel together.  
“Sounds good to me.” I smiled at the elf confidently. I hadn’t felt like this since just before the battle at Ostigar.  
“If you need me, I shall be here.” Fenris gestured to the mansion. “Denarius won’t need it when he’s dead.”  
I smiled at the elf. “I’ll see you soon.” With one last look at the elven warrior; I headed off towards the Kirkwall Gallows.


End file.
